My Boxing System: The Undisputed Champion

Troy walked into the schoolyard with his hoodie pulled tight over his head. His legs still ached from the sparring session with Jordan the night before, but the soreness was a constant now—almost comforting. The tension in the air wasn't, though. As he stepped through the doors, he could feel the weight of eyes on him. Whispers trailed behind him like ghosts.

"Hey, that's the boxing kid."

"I heard he thinks he's tough now."

"Trayvon's gonna shut him down."

Troy ignored it all, heading straight for his locker. He had no time for drama, not when he was already skating on thin ice with his teachers. The conversation with Mrs. Greene last week had been a warning shot—one he couldn't afford to ignore.

But, of course, trouble found him anyway.

As he grabbed his math book, a hand slammed his locker shut. Trayvon stood there, his usual smirk in place, with two of his cronies flanking him. The hallway grew quieter as other students paused to watch the brewing confrontation.

"Well, well," Trayvon said, his voice loud enough to carry. "If it isn't Troy 'The Punching Bag' Hunter. Heard you've been skipping class to play boxer."

Troy turned slowly, keeping his expression calm. The gym had taught him more than just how to throw a punch—it had taught him discipline. He wouldn't let Trayvon get under his skin.

"Leave me alone, Trayvon," Troy said, his voice steady.

"Or what?" Trayvon stepped closer, towering over him. "You think you're tough now? Because you run off to some gym and hit a bag? You're still the same little nobody you've always been."

Troy's fists clenched at his sides. His instincts screamed at him to fight back, but he could hear Marcus's voice in his head: "Stay composed. Don't let emotions control you."

"Not worth it," Troy muttered, turning to leave.

Trayvon grabbed his shoulder, spinning him back around. "Where do you think you're going? You think you can just walk away from me?"

The hallway fell silent. Even the teachers seemed to have disappeared. Troy could feel the crowd waiting, eager to see what he'd do. His heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to breathe.

"You're not worth my time," Troy said, meeting Trayvon's glare with a calm, steady gaze.

For a moment, Trayvon seemed caught off guard. Then his smirk twisted into a sneer. "Coward," he spat. "You can't even stand up for yourself."

Troy didn't respond. He simply walked away, his heart still racing but his resolve intact.

---

The rest of the day dragged. The tension from the hallway confrontation lingered, and Troy could feel the stares following him everywhere he went. By lunchtime, he was exhausted—not physically, but mentally.

He found his usual spot under the oak tree in the courtyard, hoping for a moment of peace. But Jayden wasn't about to let that happen.

"Yo, what happened back there?" Jayden asked, sitting down beside him. "Everyone's talking about you and Trayvon."

"Nothing happened," Troy replied, staring down at his sandwich.

Jayden snorted. "Nothing? Man, you shut him down without throwing a single punch. That was... kinda badass."

Troy glanced at his friend, surprised. "You think so?"

"Yeah," Jayden said with a grin. "But you know he's not gonna let this go, right? Trayvon's got an ego the size of this school. He's gonna come for you harder next time."

Troy sighed. "Let him. I'm not scared of him anymore."

Jayden studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Just... don't let him drag you down. You've got bigger things to focus on."

---

When the final bell rang, Troy wasted no time leaving. The last thing he wanted was another run-in with Trayvon. As he walked to the gym, the System's voice chimed in his mind:

"Task: Maintain composure under provocation. Progress: 50%."

A small smile tugged at his lips. He was getting better—not just physically, but mentally. The old Troy would've lashed out in anger, but the System—and the gym—were teaching him restraint.

The gym was quieter than usual when he arrived. Marcus was sitting by the ring, scribbling notes in a worn notebook. He looked up as Troy walked in.

"You're late," Marcus said, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

"Had to deal with something at school," Troy replied, dropping his bag by the wall.

Marcus raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "Get warmed up. We're working on reaction drills today."

Troy nodded and started wrapping his hands. As he worked, he thought about Trayvon. The confrontation had shaken him more than he'd realized. Not because he was scared of Trayvon, but because he knew it wasn't over. Sooner or later, he'd have to face him again—and this time, it wouldn't end with words.

---

The reaction drills were brutal. Marcus had set up a swinging bag that Troy had to slip and weave around, firing counters while staying light on his feet.

"Faster!" Marcus barked. "Don't just dodge—make him pay for missing!"

Troy ducked under the bag and fired a sharp uppercut, the motion fluid and precise. His muscles ached, but he kept going, driven by the memory of Trayvon's sneer.

After an hour, Marcus called for a break. Troy collapsed onto a bench, gulping down water as his chest heaved.

"You're distracted," Marcus said, sitting down beside him.

Troy hesitated, then nodded. "It's school. There's this guy... he keeps trying to push me."

Marcus snorted. "And you let him?"

"No," Troy said quickly. "I walked away. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction."

Marcus studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Fighting isn't just about throwing punches. It's about knowing when to fight and when to walk away. But if he keeps pushing you..." He leaned in, his expression serious. "Make sure you're ready to end it."

Troy nodded, his resolve hardening. He wouldn't go looking for a fight, but if Trayvon forced one, he'd be ready.

---

As Troy walked home that evening, the System chimed again:

"Task complete: Maintain composure under provocation. Reward unlocked: +1 Mental Resilience."

The now-familiar warmth spread through him, and he felt a surge of clarity. The System wasn't just building his body—it was shaping his mind, too.

When he reached his apartment, Troy sat on the edge of his bed, staring out the window. The lights of the city flickered in the distance, a reminder of how far he still had to go.

Trayvon's taunts, Marcus's advice, the weight of his own ambition—it all pressed down on him. But for the first time, he felt like he could handle it.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but Troy was ready.